On the Perils of Job-Hunting, or, My Day as a Marketer

About a year ago, I started my hunt for a job in the Boston area.  My parents had convinced me that if I didn’t start looking for a job months ahead of everybody else, I’d never be able to get one.  I had taught ESL (English as a Second Language) for three years in Poland, and prior to that had had part-time jobs working in my university art gallery and for an arts festival in my hometown.  It hadn’t been too easy to find jobs in Poland when I first moved there, because I was young (only 21, but I was told I looked even younger) and had no real work experience.  I figured this time around it would be a breeze.  I knew Boston was full of young people looking for jobs, but now I had three years’ teaching experience under my belt, plus a Master’s in English from an excellent school.  I dutifully sent out my resume and cover letter to a few charter schools in the Boston area.  I got to go visit Boston Collegiate Charter, a wonderful school, and did an interview.  I patiently waited, convinced I would get a response.  After about a month later, I was forced to acknowledge that even with my Master’s degree, I wasn’t quite appealing enough for these schools. 

I began hunting for more schools to which to apply.  I emphasized my years of experience with a variety of age groups, and talked about my passion for English.  I mentioned my high school mentor, Dr. Torrance, who inspired me to want to study English.  I explained that with my twelve years of intensive piano classes, I would be happy to help start an after-school music program.  And yet, despite claiming that they only wanted teachers who had passion for their subject—a year of teaching experience was only a plus and a Master’s was not necessary, although it was preferred—most schools did not consider me worthy of so much as a response.  Of the 90+ schools to which I applied, only six ever wrote back to say they’d either received my information or had decided to go with another candidate.  Needless to say, I pretty quickly began to feel bitter and discouraged.  I began applying for jobs I knew I’d never be good at—receptionist positions in small offices, administrative ones in larger companies, even personal assistant jobs for business directors.  Of course, my lack of enthusiasm (and relevant experience) was probably very clear, and the majority of those places never wrote back, either.

I decided I was aiming too high. After all, was a Master’s really useful?  Did it really make me qualified for anything?  In fact, was my Bachelor’s even particularly necessary? 

I started applying for different kinds of jobs.  Dunkin’ Donuts, Bruegger’s Bagels, Friendly’s Diner, you name it.  Domino’s was looking for drivers, and I had an excellent driving record, but they decided to go with a high school student who inexplicably had more driving experience.  Barnes and Noble seemed like it would be a good fit—I love books, after all—but I was sent a kind rejection that said I didn’t seem to have enough “book experience.” 

Finally, one bright May morning, I finally got a response that sounded promising. A marketing agency in Waltham was looking for new people to hire.  I looked at their site, and they had glowing reviews from both clients and employees, and had even been named one of the top places to work in Boston.

Now, frankly, I had (and have) no interest in marketing.  I appreciate that it’s an important job.  But between doing marketing and being a math teacher, I’d probably pick math teacher, even though I can barely add.  At this point, however, I was desperate.  I didn’t feel like I had a lot of options.  I managed to convince myself that maybe I’d actually enjoy doing marketing for a year or two.  After all, a lot of it has to do with psychology, and being good with words is probably an asset, and heck, maybe even my art history degree would be put to use.  I started to feel excited.  I had visions of myself in power suits, speaking to rooms full of business people, all hanging on to catch my every word.

I woke up the day of my interview prepared to go sell myself as a would-be marketer.  I put on my nicest professional-looking clothes and my brightest smile.  My dad drove me to Waltham and stayed calm in spite of the bad traffic.  I walked into the small office and was a bit alarmed to see how much more business-like all the other interviewees looked.  But I told myself to relax.  Obviously, they’d found something worthwhile in my resume, or they wouldn’t have called me.

I went in for my individual interview.  The director was pretty young and friendly.  He didn’t seem perturbed by my humanities background.  When he asked me to rank the following in order of least important to most important in a work environment—I said “Growth, fun, and money”—I saw him grin and write something down.  Our interview was over.   

I went home, certain I wouldn’t be called back, but proud of myself for thinking outside the box and at least getting an interview.

But I was wrong.  Later that day I received a voicemail, inviting me for a follow-up interview.  The ten “most promising” candidates had been invited back, and we would be shadowing some of the company’s most successful marketers.  My excitement came back.

Again, I woke up early.  Dressed up and ate a big breakfast and packed myself a lunch.  Again, my dad drove me to Waltham and wished me luck.  I went excitedly in to the room of nine suit-wearing males.  I thought that being the only female in the room meant I was extra-impressive.  I was assigned my marketer to follow, a young guy in a suit that was way too baggy for him.  He was also in the process of training another would-be employee.  He didn’t make the greatest impression on me—anyone who chuckles when I say I got a Master’s in English generally gets on my bad side—but I was still optimistic.  I was going to convince this guy I would be a stellar marketer.  I started taking in the notes while he bragged about his success at the company.  If you’ve ever watched the American TV show “The Office,” think of Ryan after he gets promoted to corporate.  That’s what this guy was like, except shorter.  But it was going to be okay.  I was going to learn so much today!

We pulled into Cambridge and parked on the side of the road.  The guy had told me that Verizon was one of their biggest clients, so they were in charge of selling Verizon to other companies.  I was excited.  I was a bit surprised when he left his laptop in the car and didn’t take his briefcase, and it also seemed odd that we were walking along a tiny street in Cambridge, full of boutiques and bakeries, but appearances can be deceiving.

We walked into a 7-11 and I assumed he was stopping for water or coffee or something to give him an extra kick before he performed his pitch.  He went up to the cashier and said, “Excuse me, sir, I’m with ABC Marketing, and we wanted to know, are you happy with your internet provider?”

My heart sank. 

For the next hour, I followed the guy (and the trainee) while he went into all the stores along the street, asking if they liked their provider and if maybe they wouldn’t prefer to switch to Verizon.  In other words, I was essentially shadowing a telemarketer, except instead of using a phone, he was doing it in person. 

The lowest point came when we went into an old record store.  The owner looked like someone who had probably been at Woodstock, and he very angrily told the marketer that he had switched to Verizon and his cost had gone up.  My marketer obsequiously began apologizing profusely. 

I found myself wondering if the music store owner was looking for an assistant.

The final straw was when the trainee managed to whisper to me that you could earn big bucks at the company—if you could make a sale.  Otherwise, every hour you worked was unpaid.  I finally realized that it was my putting "money" last in terms of importance that resulted in my being called back.

We stopped for lunch at a little sandwich shop.  I ran across the street to Dunkin’ Donuts on the pretense of needing the bathroom and texted my dad that I didn’t think I could do this job.  And—in another example of how wonderful my dad is—he wrote back and told me to tell the guy I was done.  He would drive to Cambridge to get me.  Although my dad knew how desperately I wanted to find a job, he also understood that there were some jobs I wasn’t meant for. 

I went in and nervously told my marketer I wanted to quit the follow-up process.  He proceeded to tell me it was okay, he understood that some people weren’t willing to think outside the box and take risks.  I didn’t bother telling him that even applying for a marketing job was already taking a risk in my case.  He insisted on driving me back to Waltham (I was too embarrassed to admit my dad had driven me).  He spent the whole car ride talking about how much money he’d earned.  I got out in the parking garage and said I would go look for my car and thanked him for the opportunity.  They drove off.  I was left standing in the parking garage.  Worried they might come back and find me still standing there, I walked down to the Waltham Costco and sat on a rock outside the parking lot.  Instead of feeling chagrined at yet another failure, I felt oddly at peace.  Yes, finding a job was difficult, discouraging, and depressing.  But it was also a relief to realize that just because I was desperate, it didn’t mean I had to take just any job.  Ultimately, having a job I’d hate and would be terrible at wouldn’t really help in the long run.  Although I felt pretty sorry for myself, sitting there on that rock, I also realized that in a few hours, I’d probably find my one day as a wannabe marketer pretty hilarious.  

From that day on, I decided only to apply for jobs I realistically thought I could do.  I wrote to a few more schools, set up a nanny profile, and looked for international school positions.  I was still depressed and discouraged.  I still dealt with a lot of rejection (or worse, no response).  But eventually, in the same week, I was suddenly invited for three interview, two of them for ESL teachers.  Both ESL schools offered me jobs within 24 hours, and instead of having to take whatever was offered, I got to choose which offer I wanted to take.   And now I happily work at one of the top English language schools in the United States.  I have fantastic students, I get health insurance, and I work with other people who are interesting and intelligent.  I’m exasperated when I see articles about how lazy my generation is, and how unwilling to work hard we are, or when I hear people complain about how much they hate their jobs.  I’m a lot happier than I expected to be, this time last year, and I was willing to take just about any job.  The problem isn’t that my generation doesn’t want to work.  The problem is that there are so many of us who want to work that we outnumber the available jobs.  All our degrees and experience count for nothing when there just aren’t enough jobs.  At this point, though, I’m inclined to think that maybe eventually things will work out.  After all, I might have been knocking on your door asking you to switch to Verizon.  Instead, things worked out, and I’m doing something I’m a lot better at.

Happily teaching